Call Sign Karma. Jamie Rae

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      The guy from the beach collapsed back onto the ground, grasping at the newest wound on his head. The second I had caused in less than five minutes.

      I didn’t stop to apologize, just wrapped the towel over my chest, and sprinted back into the house, locking the door behind me. There was a pair of shorts and a tank top crumpled in the corner. They were as good as anything to wear. It’s not like I wanted to dress up for my stalker, but if his knocking on the back door turned into kicking it down, it’d be nice to wear some clothes for the crime scene pictures.

      Crap, where was my phone? My heart thudded in my ears. If I just ignored him, would he go away? If he didn’t take the hint, my father kept a baseball bat in the hall closet.

      Three quick knocks rapped on the back door.

      As I ran for my weapon, I caught a glimpse of the man standing on the deck. He peered through the glass of the French doors. I swung open the closet, pulled out the Louisville slugger, and limped toward him. I may have played soccer instead of Little League, but I still knew how to swing a bat.

      “Go away. I called 911,” I shouted.

      I flipped on the outside deck light so I could get a better look at the man. I’m guessing the detectives, FBI, and office of Homeland Security would need a description.

      He was six foot, possibly two, with short, wavy blond hair and lightning blue eyes that were squinted from the porch light. He held a handkerchief to his nose and wore a light blue, bloodstained, linen shirt that was partially unbuttoned revealing his ripped abs. I hesitated until I remembered I was in danger.

      He had on khaki shorts, flip-flops, and a tattoo on his ankle. I scanned back to the top of his body. Muscular, tan, tall, and wow, those electrifying eyes. Holy hell, this guy was freaking hot. He was going to have a really good mug shot. If only we had met under different circumstances, I might actually offer him a beer.

      A soft smile tugged at his lip as he dangled my smartphone in his hand. My wet, sand-covered smartphone.

      “Son of a bitch,” I moaned as I remembered that it was in my back pocket when I fell into the ocean. I had to get it into a bag of rice and fast. It had my music, my schedules, and all my passwords. I was lucky if I remembered my own number, let alone everyone else’s.

      “Leave it on the deck. And go.”

      I tightened my grip on the bat. Mr. Tall, blond, and handsome removed the handkerchief from his nose.

      A tiny flutter tickled in my chest. My head tipped slightly to the side. He didn’t look threatening. Minus the blood, lumps and cuts, he looked like he just stepped off the front cover of GQ.

      “Sorry, Miss Nutter, but do you think I could trouble you for an icepack?”

      “No,” I replied.

      “Please?”

      He sounded and looked like a real life Prince Charming. The only thing missing was his white horse. Maybe the Karma gods had sent a peace offering? I shook my head. No. My house was built of stone and there was no way I was letting a freaking wolf in, no matter how smoking hot he was.

      I needed to protect myself.

      But why did I need protection? I looked at the bloodstain drying on his shirt. If anything, he needed protection from me.

      As if he had read my mind, he shook his head and laughed. He sat my phone on the bench, raised his hand in the air in a non-threatening manner and turned to walk away. Where was he going?

      I dove forward and gripped the door handle ready to pull it open, but I stopped as my father’s stern, no-nonsense voice boomed in the back of my head—”Don’t ever let strange men into the house.”

      But when in my life would I meet another crazy beautiful man with a British accent that twisted my lady parts into a knot? His hand rested on the railing as he was about to walk down the steps and out of my life forever. I cursed under my breath and prayed that I wouldn’t wind up on the news.

      “Wait,” I called to him as I swung open the door. He stopped and turned to look at me. “There’s ice there in the cooler. There, by the chaise.” My voice cracked as our eyes met.

      “Thank you,” he said. His steps back toward the house were hesitant. His eyebrow rose as he pointed to the bat in my hands. “Are you planning on hitting me with that?”

      His lips tugged into a smirk. It was the most incredible half-lifted-top-lip smirk I had ever seen. And that damn accent. Holy hell it was getting hot in here.

      “I didn’t do a good enough job before,” I said and I couldn’t help but smile.

      “You are a bit of a nutter, aren’t you?”

      “I guess it would appear that way, wouldn’t it?” I wasn’t sure of the exact definition of nutter, but the way it sounded rolling off his tongue and the way his shirt gripped his muscles it didn’t matter what he called me as long as he didn’t leave.

      I handed him a towel that I’d left out earlier. “Here’s a peace offering.”

      “With a smile like yours, your mental state is forgiven.”

      In a bar, that line would’ve earned an eye roll and a sigh, but with his alluring accent, I’d let it slide. His smile widened as he accepted the towel and wrapped the ice from the cooler inside. He pressed it on his forehead and winced, his smile replaced by a scowl. A sexy scowl. Damn, I was so going to need another cold shower

      “Thanks,” I stammered and glanced down. My cheeks burned. “I need to get my phone into rice.”

      I scooped up my cell from where he’d left it and nearly dropped it with my shaking hands. I turned to head inside but stopped, “Can I get you anything? Maybe something to drink?”

      I wasn’t sure what I was doing. He needed to go, but I liked the way he looked me over. Maybe a drink wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do. The Fourth of July and all I had planned was screaming at the ocean. A cute guy’s company sounded like a fun, sane option.

      “Is it safe? You don’t plan on finishing me off with a poisonous pint, do ya?” he asked.

      I was just about to laugh at his comment when he winked and it stopped me short. My breath hitched in my chest. What the hell was it about this guy that made me react like I was in heat?

      Take control, Tink.

      “You’ll have to decide if you want to take your chances,” I replied with a slightly flirty tone.

      “Something tells me to run like bloody hell, but something else tells me to take my chances. I think that might be the head trauma talking.”

      I fought a smile. He was charming and witty and I couldn’t help but want to know him better.

      He kicked off his sandals and tucked his handkerchief in his back pocket before sitting on the chaise lounge. He held the ice to his nose. His eyes reflected in the moonlight. I knew nothing about this strange man, yet his presence had made me remember how good it felt to smile again.

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